Monday, August 25, 2008

//"And.."

And the night does funny things to a man

And everything you do or say is wrong

And because of this there's nothing that can be trusted anymore

And no one likes to listen to sad songs anymore

And there's nothing wrong here that can't be fixed by us finishing this bottle of vodka

And I don't want to, that's why

And nothin' ever stays the same, man, nothin'

And there was never a time like this before

And there will never be a time like this again

And I can't tell if the days, these days, are better than those days were

And you can't trust anybody, ya know?

And I'm sick of you, me, Wilson Picket, everybody, man, EVERYBODY

And I'm so glad to see so many of you people out there tonight

And the band is awful and so are the tunes

And I said to her, "Well, I can think of another option"...

And that was that

And I hope that I don't fall in love with you

And she looked at me

And I looked at her

And she looked at me

And I looked at her

And I said, "Ah fuck it"

And I downed my shot

And then I downed hers

And then I ordered two more

And I downed them too

And I couldn't remember what she'd done that was so irritating before

And I coulda' swore I wasn' drunk, but the barroom floor disagreed with me

And we hailed a cab

And she shoved me into it

And on the cab ride home, she was so loud that the cab driver pulled over and threatened to throw us out until I paid him twenty bucks to shut up and drive

And I'm not the man that I thought I would be

And I'm not the man that I think I should be

And I don't look the way that I want to

And I don't act the way that I want to

And I don't do the things that I want to

And sometimes it just feels like everythin' is just fallin' apart, ya know?

And sometimes I think that this is better than the alternative, ya know?

And the wheels on the bus go round and round...

the end


3 comments:

J said...

zah?

Mr. B said...

Nothin' much. Just a poem.

S'funny how people automatically take someone's awkward attempt at a poem as a cry for help, isn't it? I do it all the time.

I wanted to try to hammer out a short thing that would express some ideas and briefly flirt with a short narrative, in the middle, whilst also mixing in lines from songs and short bursts of memories, but the only stipulation would be that each line begin with the word "And". Sort of a stream of consciousness thing. Or rather multiple streams of consciousness overlapping and playing themselves out.

It's clumsy and awkward as Hell. But then I don't claim to be a poet. And I refuse to let fear of failure keep me from making the attempt.

So that's that.

Merrily we roll along,
Mr.B

matt said...

And it reminded me of a Tom Waits song

(probably because TW was referenced.)